The cooking class ended. Students gathered their things, drifting out through the tall doors as the smell of roasted herbs lingered in the air. Trafalgar remained behind, wiping his hands on a cloth before walking toward the front of the room.
Selara stood there, half-bent over a cluttered counter, scribbling notes while humming tunelessly to herself. Her platinum-blonde hair was impossibly long and hopelessly tangled, as if she hadn't touched a comb in weeks. Emerald eyes, bright and sharp with a hint of madness, flicked over the page as her lips curled in faint amusement. Perched on her forehead were a pair of strange, oversized goggles, their lenses tinted unevenly.
Her robes were a patchwork of green and white, layered with so many pockets that she looked like she carried half a shop's worth of supplies on her person.
"Professor Selara," Trafalgar began, stopping a few steps away. "I've gathered the materials you asked for."
